Lost in the Background
by Ivanolix
Summary: Of all the time that Serenity the pilot covers, we see very little of Simon and River, the newest passengers. What did they do in all that time? A set of five oneshots.
1. Seeing Her Again

Author's Note: It always struck me how little we see of River and Simon before Shindig, and yet by Safe they have blended quite considerably with the crew. I wondered what happened in between their token episode scenes to bring about this. This is a prologue of sorts, but also a standalone gapfiller. There will be more eventually (due to health and RL issues I cannot assure when they will appear, however).

_Simon had never liked the living room, the place where, to all formal traditions, life happened casually. It never really did. The life that happened there was bound by the protective covers on the furniture and the security camera in the upper right corner, and ended promptly at eight o'clock. Whenever he had to be there, Simon always sat where his back would be to that invading camera. But it never seemed to matter, because River loved that room, and so he would end up everywhere in it._

_As far as he could tell, the fashionable lines of every piece in that room, and the harmonically coordinated hues, symbols of order to the extreme in Simon's mind, gave River free range of imagination and wonder. She didn't like his bedroom at all, and any time she came in was spent in mostly silence. Which was why he was there now, typing quickly as his thoughts spilled out to the waiting keys: so that it would be quiet._

_Too quiet, perhaps. Down the hall he did not hear small footsteps, but he did hear the plodding of larger ones and a "Slow down, child!". It was not loud, but in the silence of his room Simon heard everything around him. Several key clicks later, and the sound of water made him look up again, only to shake his dark head and lean back down. He had to get this right; a twelve year old didn't have a chance, they had said, but he needed this, needed to know that he could accomplish something if he put his mind to it._

_A wailing shriek pierced his eardrums, just finally accustomed to the deafening silence, and there was a "River!" and a pattering of feet before his door was flung open and River flew into his arms._

"_River?" he queried, putting a hand on her back. She was a very small four-year-old, dripping lukewarm water, entirely unclothed, and shivering frantically._

"_Scary monsters, Simon," she cried, grasping his vest front immovably with two pale hands and threatening to smother herself by how deep her face was buried into his shirt. "Black hairy legs and fangs, fangs, fangs."_

"_It's ok, mei mei," he said, petting her hair, and wishing he had never shown her the spider carcass that he had examined under a microscope, all its body parts magnified to a hundred times, frightening to the bravest child. "Nanny will kill it."_

"_Nanny will do no such thing," said Nanny brusquely, standing at the door with arms crossed over her chest. "It's gone anyway, now. River Tam, you will let go of your brother right now and get back into your bath."_

"_One minute, and she'll be there," said Simon, indicating with his head that Nanny should leave, which she did with a sigh. "River, you're fine, and besides, spiders can't hurt you."_

"_You're smart, Simon, you know they can," said River, looking up at him with dripping nose and eyes, her hair plastered against her cheeks and forehead. "Chemicals and poisons combine to cause trauma and death after puncture wounds."_

"_River, I tested the venom of all the native arachnids, and none of them can hurt you," assured Simon. "Relax."_

"_Scared, Simon. Fear can't be controlled." There was less sobbing in her voice now, just a little trembling._

_Simon's tone was warm as he brushed her wet hair out of her eyes, "Don't be so silly, River. I told you, you don't have to be afraid."_

"_Phobias aren't rational, Simon," she rebuked, and then hiccupped._

"_Um, River, you should finish your bath now," said Simon, distinctly realizing that his little sister was unclothed and soaking wet._

_She giggled. "Sorry Simon. You're all wet now."_

"_Exactly," he said, and his sigh was half-mocking. Turning back to his computer screen, he once again did not hear as her steps left, but he did hear the splash a few moments later, and his lip quirked a little._

Here he was, once again, his sister's trembling form in his arms, but this time he was having a hard time not sobbing onto her shoulder as thoroughly as she was on his. He couldn't, though, not when his protecting arms were all that were keeping her from collapsing, and he could easily diagnose the symptoms of shock in her.

The captain's voice broke in, harsh and stern, but at this moment Simon wasn't backing down.

"This is my sister," Simon said, not letting the wetness of his eyes overcome the fierce love that should tell the captain that, however poor in a fight he was, he wasn't going to be bullied into giving up his sister.

The Companion, Inara, glided over, shedding her outer garment, and kneeling by him. "Here," she said softly, her eyes gentle and pitying.

"Thank you," he murmured, wrapping it around River in a way that he never let go of her. After three years with little hope, he needed to know she wasn't going to fade away. She was trembling violently, silently, as he slid her arms into the silken sleeves. "Come, River," he said, holding her a little more firmly as he tried to stand. But she began to cry again, holding onto him without supporting herself. "It's all right," he said again, rubbing his hand in circles on her back."

"You take care of her then, doctor," the Captain broke in. "But I warn you, I'm gonna want a right pleasing explanation for why you're smuggling your sister at supper."

"I'm not unreasonable, captain," said Simon coolly. "I'll speak." For no apparent reason River let out a half sob half scream, and Simon turned from the crew still standing stricken and squeezed her closer without a word.

Moving slowly, Simon led River towards the infirmary, her feet seeming to gain strength the longer he held her. The pale light flooded out and she stepped back, bringing up her hands instinctively to shield her face, but the tears and trembling had stopped. Looking down, Simon saw bewilderment and withdrawal in her eyes, and worry gripped at his heart. A couple steps more, and she suddenly stopped, pulling away with more strength than he would have thought she could use now.

"No," she whimpered, "needles, pain, the light's too bright, it stabs into your mind, blocking out what you used to remember."

"Shh, shh, mei mei, calm down," said Simon, bringing her close. "It's safe here, it's all right."

"Hurts," she moaned, still pulling away from the room.

"Look, River," said Simon, "look inside."

River looked, her eyes darting back and forth, but finally resting as Simon had intended on Kaylee's sleeping form. "Patient," she said.

"This is a place where people get better, River. No one's going to hurt you," said Simon, putting his arm around her shoulder and taking a step closer to the door. To his relief, River did not resist as she looked past him.

Simon paused, glancing at Kaylee, a twinge of guilt gripping him at the lifelessness of her form, but the part of his mind that kept him together pulled his thoughts back to his focus. Thank goodness he had been preparing for when River would come out of cryo. She needed medication swiftly, or the shock would cause more damage than he could deal with at the moment.

"Supernova," muttered River. "Catastrophic explosion of a sun causing ejection of mass."

"That's right," said Simon slowly, as he led her to the bench, glad she was still capable of River-like speech.

"Not this, though, just a cloud," she added, looking over his shoulder. "Temporary, don't worry. You'll make the sun return."

Not knowing what to say, Simon chose silence and opened his med kit. River's gaze was still locked on Kaylee, the warm brown of the young woman's hair clearly the most homey piece of the cold blue-white of the infirmary, something to grasp onto in her confusion. Simon took his other hand from her shoulder, and moved a tray to find the medication he was looking for. As he took a hypodermic needle from its package, River's eyes darted back to his hand, and she breathed in swiftly.

"No," she cried, tears welling up, arms coming up protectively.

Simon quickly set the needle down, and put his hands on either side of River's face and stroked her cheek with his thumb. He had expected to provide reassurance, but had never expected this; River had never been frightened without reason much. "Mei mei, it's all right, it's all safe, believe me."

"Needles. Sharp. Not safe, not whole," she murmured, frightened and deadpan all at once, her eyes looking everywhere but at his.

Gently bringing her face down so that their foreheads touched, Simon spoke slowly. "This is to keep you safe, mei mei, not to hurt you. You know who I am. River, have I ever hurt you?"

A painful expression clouded River's face, and she turned away, fingering the sleeve of her robe. "You thought she didn't love you anymore, that she forgot," she said slowly. "Mother said it was expected, it was right, but she was never like that. You didn't mean to, couldn't know; it took time. You couldn't know it was too late."

An aching in his heart, Simon rested his hand on hers. "It's not too late, River. You're safe with me, they can't do anything to you."

"You didn't mean to, you wouldn't have let them," she whispered, breathing out. "You're Simon."

Simon managed a sad imitation of a smile. "Yes. Simon."

She said no more, but began looking past him, her gaze erratic and confused but no longer frightened. Taking courage, Simon picked up the needle again and filled it with the medication he had chosen. Pushing up her sleeve so he could administer it, his surgeon eyes noted with pain the thousands of pinprick scars as he injected the dosage. He knew why she was frightened of needles.

"It's time to rest now, River," he said softly, letting go of her for an instant to reach for a pillow. "Your body is in shock."

"Always, forever," muttered River, but she laid her head down. "Shock, fear. Death." As Simon put a blanket over her, she stopped talking and curled up a little, a tear coming from one eye. "Simon."

"Hush," he whispered, sitting down on the stool by the bench. "Rest now."

He couldn't read her gaze as she stared at him, because whether it was the sedative or the shock or her ordeals, there was blankness in her deep eyes. For a moment she just looked at him, and because he couldn't bring a reassuring smile to his lips he took her hand from where it rested on the grey blanket and stroked it softly. Her expression did not change, and then her eyes closed in sleep.

Simon held back grief of his own. He had known as he made his choices that life would never be similar again, but he had insanely hoped that his sister might be.

Gently letting her hand rest down on the warm blanket, he brushed back a tendril of dark hair that had escaped, and rose. A quick check of his other charge's vitals, and then he was walking out the door towards the hostile captain and crew who needed an explanation.


	2. Guilt and Understanding

As far as Simon was concerned, today was not his best day. Though he was perhaps grateful to be still alive, he was by no means certain how long that was going to last. That, combined with his lack of knowledge on how River would recover from the shock of being woken too early, and the captain's antagonism, made what little grounds he had made with the rest of the crew seem as naught. For some reason the captain was blaming him for smuggling dangerous and criminal business on his ship, while doing the same deed himself. Simon was not sure if he wanted to think too hard about the reasoning that passed for logic with this crew who held his life in their hands—but perhaps if he stuck close to the Shepherd and Inara, they might keep a level of civilized restraint to the discussion of his and River's lives.

Rubbing his jaw painfully, Simon went to the infirmary. He had been seething at Mal's callous response to his situation (though his logic could not entirely blame the captain), but receiving a strong right hook had calmed those feelings down quite a bit. Used to a society where emotions never grew that strong, Simon would have to learn to control this anger he had not fully understood that he had, if not for his jaw's sake, then for River's.

As he took a pill to prevent bruising, Simon looked over River again. She looked at peace, but he knew it was just an illusion caused by the sedative. Either that, or—gripped with a sudden fear Simon moved over and put two fingers on her neck to check for a pulse. _Idiot_, he told himself, _you know she's just sedated. _But he had known that she was safe and happy at the Academy as well, and so now he could not trust that which he knew.

There was a rustling behind him, and he turned to see Kaylee shifting and wearily opening her eyes. They were a bit blurry, but cleared a little as she registered him.

"Hey doc..." she murmured. "Am I gonna live?"

Simon walked over to the counter and picked up a thermometer. "There's no cause for worry right now," he answered. "You seem to be doing exceptionally well." Kaylee gave him a cheery grin before letting him take her temperature, and he answered back with as bright a look as he could give. He refrained from saying that she was his first bullet wound; whatever rumors would surface later, Simon did know the meaning of the word "tact".

"Sure was shiny luck that you were used to doctorin' like this," she added, still woozy but coherent, "and not brain surgery or somethin' like that. You're real good, doctor."

"You were an excellent patient," answered Simon in his warmest tone, unable to be unaffected by her mood.

"Aw, don't be silly, I was out the whole time," murmured Kaylee, but a little more glow came back into her face. "I don't even know why I got shot," she continued.

Simon's face darkened, and he turned to put the thermometer back as if he was concentrating on the normal reading. "I am afraid that was my fault," he said.

"Naw, I remember that part. You didn't shoot me," said Kaylee.

"No, but it was because of me that guns were drawn," said Simon.

"Could you explain that?" asked Kaylee. "'Cause I think you're prob'ly just goin' along with what the captain says is your fault."

Simon felt a little something at her desire to think well of him, but sighed and stood still by the counter. "I'm not just a surgeon," he said. "I'm also a fugitive from the Alliance."

"D'ya kill anyone?" asked Kaylee, eyes a little wider.

"No," answered Simon, allowing himself a bitter smile. "I didn't do that, at least. I rescued my sister from the Alliance school where she was being tortured and brought her on this ship in a cryogenic sleep. The Alliance didn't like that, and neither does Captain Reynolds."

"That's nice," said Kaylee dreamily.

"You should be resting," advised Simon, coming back to stand by her.

"No, no, doctor, I'm awake. You're gonna finish telling the story."

"Well, they sent a man to bind me by law, and when I resisted things grew very confused and frantic, and the officer was gun-shy."

"And he shot me," finished Kaylee seriously.

"I'm sorry," said Simon gravely.

For a moment there was nothing, and Simon could not read Kaylee's face. "Is that your sister?" she asked slowly, turning her head and looking over at River.

"Yes," said Simon, his voice conveying too many emotions to be defined by Kaylee or even himself. "This is River."

"You don't need to be too guilty, doc," said Kaylee quietly. "I understand."

"I didn't mean for—" Simon started.

"Ya don't have to tell me that either," said Kaylee, and then let loose a face-cracking yawn.

Simon smiled good-naturedly. "Now you really must follow the doctor's orders."

"Yeah," said Kaylee, giving one last weary smile before dropping off again.

Simon checked her vitals, and while doing so had another random memory of River (something that apparently happened when you were reunited with your sister after three years and she wasn't the same), of when they had a discussion on that very phrase. He had just begun studying seriously for medical school and had said that it sounded too cold for such an essential function. River, no more than eight, countered with the comment that medical jargon had to be both exact and distant so that doctor's would stay professional, but that when it came down to it "vital" was a perfectly friendly word, it was just the way it was said that made him dislike it. "You'll get over it," she added sagely. Simon remembered giving her a glare, to which she responded by tilting her head and blinking innocently until he reached over and tickled her mercilessly.

She had been right, though. He did not think about medical phrasing anymore, as it was ingrained into his very mind. Not the coldness—he did care about each patient, though if they were all like River perhaps they thought he should be distant and professional and so interpreted his comments likewise. _But there is no one quite like River, which is a benefit to the world, I imagine_, he thought.

Seeing that both patients were healthy and likely to stay so, Simon nearly succumbed to a yawn. Since boarding Serenity he had not had a restful night's sleep, especially since he was unwilling to sedate himself in case something happened. But now that he had no need to fear for River's discovery, and with some trust in Captain Reynold's promise that he had nothing to fear for if Kaylee lived, he decided that the risk of leaving his patients alone for an hour or two was very little compared to the risk of treating them while sleep deprived.

Once in his room, Simon sat down on the bed and put his head in his hands. He had not been this tired since—well, the night before he and the underground resistance had broken into the Alliance Academy. But that wasn't saying much, as his sleep life had only two options now: little sleep or less sleep. Before leaving his old life he had not been a stranger to weariness, but there were laws keeping doctor's from working too many hours, and he had no worries at home to keep sleep from him, but now, a fugitive and guardian, he wondered if he would ever be able to sleep well again. As soon as the ship landed on Whitefall and Captain Reynolds fulfilled his promise, he and River would be on their own among people whom he would have to distrust until they were proven otherwise, while having to find work to pay for River's medicines...once he prescribed them...if he could figure out what exactly had been done to her...

Simon's thoughts broke off as he realized that this was counterintuitive to his plan of resting for an hour or two. Lying back on the bed, he closed his eyes and tried to meditate, shoving the little voices that told him what he "should" be doing (making notes of River's behavior, preparing her medicine, etc.) deep into his mind where they were at least muffled.

Today had not been Simon's best day, by any stretch of the imagination. But even being woken before time because of a passing Reaver ship did not make him forget that he had his first mostly restful sleep in three years on the smuggler ship Serenity. A fact Simon would have found ironic if he had thought more closely on it.


	3. Smart or Right

Simon's heart turned to ice when he woke to hear the captain's voice alerting the crew over the comm, only to be jerked across the spectrum to warm anger when he heard the reason. Reavers? This was a cruel joke.

He wondered darkly if Mal had Tam blood in his veins, recalling how River used to joke in just the same manner. She had seldom had nightmares, so he had believed her when she had come running into his room crying frightenedly: "Simon, it's time to leave, we have to go! They're here! They'll break in!" The cortex had warned citizens of Osiris to beware of a gang on the loose, and so Simon had followed her, not asking until they were halfway out of the house what they were running from. And of course, she had turned with her wide brown eyes as innocent as a kitten's, and whispered: "Reavers!" Then as she giggled and in his frustration he had chased her through the house, she continued to taunt him by not screaming and waking their parents so she could be rebuked.

But he thought it was not wise to leave the comm message at that. Just to be sure, he came out of his room to see Zoe looking dead serious. Not for the first time that day, he found himself thinking _This is not my best day ever. _

It was like having one's worst fears confirmed—if Reavers were worse than your beloved government torturing your sister, which he was not sure was true.

Running back to the infirmary, Simon made sure River had not yet woken, and found the Shepherd standing with his head bowed and Bible clasped to his chest by Kaylee. Feeling suddenly ashamed that even a Shepherd out of the world for years recognized the non-fairytale and very real danger of the Reavers, Simon made a silent oath to cure his naievete by any means possible. It would only be a deathtrap out here.

But as his mind fully processed Zoe's words, Simon felt his heartbeat quicken rapidly. No, no, that wouldn't do. Think about surgery, think about medicine, think about what drugs he had that would finish them before the Reavers got to—no, no, no. So he watched River, timing her deep breathing, trying to emulate it.

He thought how horribly ironic it would be if they were killed by Reavers mere days after he rescued River from the opposite end the of the civilization spectrum. Reaching out a hand to rest on his still slumbering sister, he silently restated his vow to protect her at all costs.

Shepherd Book raised his head after a moment and sighed. "Doctor," he said in a low but steely voice, and Simon turned to him. "Doctor, I have never spoken for either suicide or mercy killing, but in these circumstances I think it would be a greater sin if we did not do something for these innocents if those monsters board. Do you have the sort of drug that would send them to the Lord peacefully?"

"I do," said Simon slowly, turning around and moving to where he kept his medicines. He had not wanted to admit that such a drug might be necessary, but the Shepherd's concurrence with his thoughts left him with few doubts. He could not help asking: "Is it likely to end like that?"

Seemingly sensing the fear Simon was trying to hide, Book offered a grim smile. "I do not believe any man could rightly guess what might happen on a ship like this. I have faith that the Lord will keep us safe, if only for these precious ones here, but I do not think faith gives a man license to be unprepared."

Simon tried to respond likewise, but only managed to look pained. "I have faith in very little, but nothing divine; I have seen what that leads to."

Book's brow furrowed, but his expression was not hard and he drew a little nearer to Simon. "You are not the only one to say so on this ship. The Alliance?"

Simon gave a harsh little laugh. "No, surprisingly. My parents."

Book said nothing, but Simon felt like continuing. It was not the time or place to reveal so much, but if he did not speak he would think about why he was preparing overdoses and that would be worse. If nothing else, talking relieved some tension. "I saw that they believed, oh they believed, so fully in harmony and peace. The Alliance was enlightened to them, it followed the right path, and we were to follow, to rise up with the greatest. I followed the precepts, the noble eight-fold path willingly, devoting myself to that idea which I saw more important than all others: the protection of life. And my parents told me that I was doing good works, that I was with the enlightened."

Simon's voice did not waver, but he did not face Book as he dealt with the medicine.

"They didn't tell me that all their belief was a facade; I found that out on my own. They did not care about any life but their own, or maybe those of their children if that advanced them. It was not all a lie—they were believers, but believers in something that was beyond my acceptance, believers in a philosophy that has one look to oneself before anything else, and utter faith that it would carry them to happiness. When I found that out, when I finally saw what humanity was, and then how humanity united in the Alliance could act, I lost all faith. There was no enlightenment, there was no dharma, there were only selfish men."

Simon set down the last dosage with a little more strength than was needed. "You see, Shepherd, utter faith in anything is nothing but blindness."

Book stepped forward and put a hand on the young man's shoulder, and Simon did not flinch. "Oh, my son, we all have misused faith, have misplaced it. But that does not make it worthless or despicable."

Simon turned to the man sharply. "It is not despicable to be willingly blind? What good can it do?"

"It saves lives," said Book bluntly, and Simon paused. "Your blind, naively blind, hopelessly blind, faith in your love for your sister led you to this place. A sceptic would have given her up, would have looked at the risks, mourned, and gone on. Do you think you could have done all this without faith?"

Simon said nothing, gave away nothing in his expression.

"You have utter faith in love, son, and never let yourself be told that that is worthless or despicable." The almost fierceness that had been in Book's tone then disappeared, and he grew softer again. "Illogical, certainly. Blind, even more, and dangerously so. But right. And if you wish to rise above selfish men, you must fully accept that you cannot always do something smart and something right."

Then, Mal's voice came over the comm, assuring them that the Reaver ship had passed them by. The atmosphere shattered a million-fold. Book let out a long sigh, but Simon didn't know what to do in his relief, and so he just stood, feeling a little foolish.

"Best put those away now, son," said Book, looking at the doses laid out. Then he quietly left the infirmary.

Simon quickly followed his advice, and then, sleep frightened away but with nothing else to do, looked over the infirmary. Other than his own things, which were mostly surgical instruments and medicines that River might possibly need, there was little there. It was pathetic, really: bandages, a few antibiotics, and some very basic medical tools. He knew they would be at Whitefall soon where he would be freed from this crew, but could not help but wonder how they had survived this long, and how they would continue to survive after he was gone.

He was fairly certain that Kaylee would live, but she would not be fully healed when he left, and there was simply not much here. Of course, there was no place to get medical supplies nearby, but he thought that he might leave a list of supplies that Reynolds would be wise to get. It would probably be best to discuss it with Inara, who seemed to be on the captain's good side and might even have a few of the supplies he presently desired.

It was hardly a smart move, he thought on further reflection, helping people who plan to cruelly toss you to the winds and sands. But he felt it was right.


	4. Passing the Time

Simon was now quite sure that he was doomed to attract cruel jokers. River would have been enough for a normal life, had the Fates been just, but Captain Reynolds was added on out of sadistic pleasure in watching the results, Simon was sure. And, of course, the amusement of the rest of the crew.

Slightly out of breath, Simon straightened his clothing and entered the infirmary. The memory of Mal's joke was pushed back at the sight of Kaylee's smiling face.

"Hey, doctor," she said. "Don't know if I should, but I'm feeling almost ready to get up. Shepherd here says I'd regret it if I did, though."

"Considering the location of your wound, I wouldn't want to wish that kind of pain on anyone, and so I echo his advice," said Simon, in the smooth tone that indicated that Doctor Tam rather than Fugitive Tam or Brother Simon was in the infirmary now.

"You been shot 'fore?" asked Kaylee.

"No," answered Simon, preparing another dosage of pain medicine for her. "I had my appendix removed."

Kaylee's face twisted in a way that Simon might have smiled at if he was looking at her. "Doncha need that?"

"Actually, there is no definitive research that has found a purpose for that particular organ," continued Simon, administering the shot.

"Well, then it don't really make sense why we have it. Though," she added, "it's not like I can't name a dozen parts on Serenity that she don't need. Real inefficient design in areas." She paused, then asked curiously: "There any other body parts we don't need?"

Simon could not help feeling the worry and bitterness slowly slip off his back from where they had been heavy, and he answered more friendlily. "Not precisely. The human body is more efficient than a man-made object like Serenity, so though there are certain organs you can live without, it would not be a proper recommendation to have them removed simply for that reason. The tonsils, however, are commonly removed if they become inflamed."

"Y'know, doctor," continued Kaylee, though Simon had turned to check on River. "You 'n' me, we both know our bodies pretty well, just yours are prob'ly harder to work with."

Simon paused after calculating River's pulse rate. "That's likely very true." For a moment he twitched at the thought of someone equating a ship the same value as human life, but that was just the passionate doctor in him, and he knew full well that Kaylee simply grew more attached than he to inanimate objects.

There was an uncomfortable pause as the almost-forced cheer slowly dissipated, and the general darkness returned. Not entirely—Kaylee was there—but enough.

"Is she all right?" asked Kaylee about River, concerned. "She hasn't woken all the time you've been gone, but Shepherd Book says that's best."

"She suffered severe shock by emerging from a cryogenic sleep too quickly," said Simon. "Or in other words, her body was prepared to be operating at the much lower heart and oxygen rates of deep sleep rather than the activity required of her because of Captain Reynold's actions. Sleeping is best for her right now."

"She did appear to be dreaming earlier," added Book, who had been watching the young ones silently but with interest.

"Calmly?" asked Simon, but with little hope.

"I am afraid I must say, no," said Book. "She was twitching and even murmured a few incoherent words, but I thought it looked more like a nightmare than something pleasant."

Simon sighed and rubbed his brow, the pain evident in his face aging him considerably to all other eyes, and his voice low and regretful. "There is nothing I can do for that."

"She'll be ok," said Kaylee, though it was more a question than she likely wanted it to be.

Simon didn't say anything, but sat down in between the two makeshift beds.

"Don't you need your rest, son?" asked Book.

"I don't think I could sleep now," said Simon. "Perhaps when the job is done. I'm sure the captain will ask us to leave soon."

"The job?"

Simon smiled wearily. "Yes, they actually found someone to buy their stolen cargo apparently. I believe they'll head out, afterwards which River and I will have to experience what passes for civilization on the Rim."

"I don't think the captain meant it when he said you'd be dropped here," said Kaylee, brow furrowing.

"_I_ have no doubts on that subject," said Simon shortly.

"Captain's got a good heart, he wouldn't be cruel," said Kaylee.

"I suppose he doesn't play games with people's minds either," said Simon sardonically. "No, I'm sure he would never play ill-spirited jokes."

The true irony was understandably lost on Kaylee, but she also did not seem to have an answer to the general matter, which gave Simon a sort of perverse pleasure. At least Mal seemed to be known for that behavior, it wasn't just Simon.

"I'll talk to him," said Kaylee. "I don't think Whitefall's good for you and your sister."

"Don't worry about us," said Simon, rising and brushing off her comment with a hand. "We'll survive."

"Well, if the captain does keep his word," said Book, "you would be better off starting a new life well rested."

"The Shepherd has a point, even if it's not that subtle," said Kaylee, tipping her head to one side.

Simon smiled halfheartedly. "And I thought I was the doctor." There were things he needed to do, and so he decided to at least appear to give in to their advice. He almost left the infirmary before pausing and saying on impulse, "You've been kind—both of you. I—we appreciate it."

Book had also risen to leave, and put a hand on Simon's shoulder as they walked out, saying quietly: "You've done nothing not to deserve it."

"Well, there may be some disagreement on that point," said Simon almost inaudibly, but Book only thumped his shoulder and chuckled a little.

Returning to his room, Simon straightened up the belongings that were there—or to be accurate, only a little more than they already were. He had brought so little from his old life, and so little to start a new one, and he realized that he couldn't even pack until he was more informed. What would he need? Would his money be enough to buy clothes for River and a place to stay? Did they have a hospital on this planet, and would it be safe for him to work there now, or should he wait until a less suspicious time? The only other alternative might be roughing it in the wilderness. _River would have liked that_, he thought wistfully. _Before. _

But until the captain returned and made his decision clear, any thoughts on this subject were guesses in the dark. He knew nothing of Whitefall. He knew nothing about surviving on a planet; he had barely survived space travel and being a fugitive for a few weeks. But being on Serenity had given him surprising confidence. If these—people—could survive by the skin of their teeth, day after day, then it was possible. He had his purpose to keep him focused, and that would make up on the scale for the fact that these people didn't have any responsibilities beyond their own personal ones. It might even make up for the fact that the government was not hard on their heels.

Simon paused, realizing he was pacing back and forth, fingering the notebook he had picked up from where it had fallen disgracefully from the shelf. He opened it and wrote down the Shepherd's words about River's dream.

_It's all so useless_, he thought, but did not write. Here he was, trying to distract himself with meaningless checkups on his patients, who did not need active attention, and trying to tell himself that there were "things" to be done before the captain came back. _No_, he admitted, _there _is_ nothing to be done. It's just waiting and meaningless speculation._

"Self realization is the step that must come before all others" echoed a female voice in his head, the long-buried memory of his psychology teacher. Well, what was the next step, then? He couldn't make a move until the captain returned, so he might as well see when that might possibly be. He didn't know the ship very well, but all passages seemed to lead towards the bridge—or the storage areas—or the engine room—well, he would find his way eventually. He had to. To survive one had to find the way, and Simon had always sworn that he would survive. He might dally with trifles while he waited, but it would be soon that this little respite would be over. Would he be ready for whatever would come afterwards? It didn't matter. His oath was set, and only death would break it.


	5. A World of Their Own

Wash and Kaylee had dodged the Reavers on Whitefall, and everyone was emerging from engine room and shuttle to congratulate and talk about their parts in it all. It was a warm and happy group, if a little worn out from stress and action and bullet wounds, and they did not even notice the two who silently slipped away and into the passenger quarters. After all, they were a different family, in their own different world.

Simon had decided that River would sleep in his bed. Three passenger quarters had been prepared, but he did not want to go near where Dobson had been, and would not trouble anyone to make up another chamber. No, he would rather sleep on the floor.

The lights were a warm yellow on Serenity, something that surprised Simon after his limited experience with the blue-white ships of the Alliance. The infirmary wasn't, which gave Simon a place on this ship where he could feel in his element, but he decided that, since the captain was not leaving them on Whitefall, this chamber would be his and River's home for their stay. The rest of the ship—it looked homey, but it was the crew's home, and he felt like a stranger. But here, in this little room, he and River could have a safe world. One where no captain would yell at them, where no Alliance would find them, where sleep and rest could be taken, assuming the ship was not being shot at. It would do for now, until they got to Boros, or wherever the captain intended on leaving them. Simon would have to ask him later.

As Simon searched through his bag to find a nightshirt that River could use to sleep in, she sat down on his bed, her slender arms wrapped closely around her, and rocked back and forth a little. "Is it safe here?" she asked in a small voice.

"I-I think so," he answered, frowning a little as he realized that he had nothing really suitable. Unless—yes, there was probably a hospital gown in the infirmary. He turned back to River, who was slowly scanning every inch of the small room's walls. "Do you need anything?"

"Tired, but can't sleep," said River unhappily.

"I can help that," he said with a little smile. "I'll be right back." He moved swiftly out and to the infirmary, grabbed what he needed, and returned to the chamber. River was by his luggage, and when he came in she quickly tucked something small away in her hand. He gave a slightly curious gaze, but said nothing about it and gave her the gown. It had likely come in the first basic infirmary supply kit that the captain had purchased, and was the only thing that he had never found a use for since; it was cheap and old, but it would be warm. "Why don't you put this on," he said, giving another weary smile before turning to give her some privacy and to prepare something to help her sleep again.

When he turned back, she was sitting on the bed with her legs tucked up close to her chest, looking almost as small in the hospital gown as in Inara's robe. "It's warm," she said.

"That's the point," he said lightly, coming over with the shot, not being able to help a little smile now that she was talking, even if it was nothing but the simple and the obvious. The men in the underground who had helped him break her out had demanded that she be immediately put in cryogenic sleep in case she might be suddenly triggered. It had broken his heart to give her the injection and watch her eyes close in a deathly fashion before they could even share a word or a touch. It had ached even more when she woke in shock and terror, barely seeing him as more than the only thing she could recognize. He knew what trauma did to people, and he knew that her mind was unstable, but he realized now how much he missed River, his little sister. And he hoped he could slowly bring her back. At least there was no longer blankness in her eyes, though the light was still missing.

She looked everywhere but at the needle, and said as soon as he was done: "Not bright here. Not cold, not hard." She stroked the blanket next to her. "Safe to sleep here."

"That's right," said Simon soothingly. "We'll be all right here. You need to take your rest."

"Doctor's orders," murmured River, though not in the teasing tone that she had always used before. She didn't look exactly pleased, but she did begin to crawl under the covers. As Simon rose to turn the lights lower, though, she sat up and called, "Simon?"

"I'm not leaving," he assured her, turning down the lights and coming back to her side. "The shot I gave you will help you sleep."

She frowned a little as he adjusted the blankets around her. "I slept for so long."

"Just a little while more," he said softly. "Then we'll find a place. We'll find a safe place."

There was a moment as sadness came into her face, and she reached up to gently touch his face as if he was part of a delusion. Then she whispered: "I didn't think you'd come for me."

And he knew that she was still there. For moments he wondered where she had gone, but not now, as he finally recognized his mei mei, and his throat choked up as he realized that she had lost all hope before he arrived. "Well, you're a dummy," he managed.

Clarity came into River's eyes, and when she managed the first half-smile he had seen in three years, he wrapped his arms tightly around her as he blinked away tears. It was the hug he had never given her when she left for school, the hug he had wanted to give her as soon as they were free of the Academy, the hug he had wanted to give her when she first awoke from cryo, the hug that he wished would make up for all his halting and inadequate words. "Missed you, mei mei," he whispered.

"_She's very small," Simon commented, watching as the tiny blanketed bundle squirmed in his mother's arms. "And red. But I think I like her."_

"_That's good," said Regan, smiling at her son. "Because you will have to be her big brother."_

"_What exactly does that mean?" asked Simon, leaning on the arm of the chair and studying the way that River's eyes were proportionally bigger than all her other features when compared to older children._

"_It means you are responsible," said Regan. "She is smaller than you, and weaker, and she will look to you for love and protection. It is what brothers and sisters do." Simon missed the fond look in his mother's eyes as she was clearly recollecting, too intent was he on watching his new sister. His face grew very grave as he thought on her words._

"_Will it be hard?" he asked. "Being a brother, I mean."_

"_Responsibility is always hard, Simon," said his mother. "But it is what we must do. And just because we must doesn't mean we don't like it. I'm sure you two will get along just fine."_

_Simon nodded seriously, and put out a hand to rest on River's bundled little figure. She was more than an infant now, she was his little sister. His new mei mei._

Simon had sat by River's side until her eyes once again closed in slumber before leaving her to speak to the captain. It was to be a short conversation, a quick confirmation of where they were to be dropped off, not a time for Simon to beg for safe harbor. No, Mal had really surprised him. And Simon had not even wanted to stay here. Had he thought about it for a moment before, the cons would have jumped out as insurmountable. They almost appeared so now, if only almost. A place to stay was a place to stay, though, even one that included Captain Reynolds and Jayne.

There were still problems with the situation, too many and too lacking in immediate urgency for Simon to list before bed, but for now, at least, he had one less thing to worry about. And when he looked at River and noticed that her breathing was still a little shallow, her pulse still light, and her skin was still pale, and he was entirely unsure as to how she was mentally, the loss of one worry was worth something to him.

Settling down onto his makeshift bedding, Simon sighed and closed his eyes, his last thought before exhaustion took him being that, if he and River were going to be here for a while, it would be worthwhile to make up the nearby passenger chamber so he could sleep in a real bed.


End file.
